Ronald Weasley and the Door of Talking Snakes
by DragonWolfStar
Summary: When Ron copied Harry's parseltongue he didn't get it quite right the first time. Hissing is all well and good only when you don't know what you're really saying. As told from the perspective of a door. Crack!fic


A/N: I make no apologies for my random thoughts.

One very small out-of-context quote from Psych. If you find it I will be extremely surprised (it's not the pineapples). And several references to anime/shows - can you find them all? XD

Ronald Weasley and the Door of Talking Snakes

It had been a long time since the door had any company, it mused silently. Its creator had left a long time ago, and for ages there had been nothing to accompany it but dust and the leftover bits of prey that the big serpent had left behind.

Solid, steady. That was what it had been for its master and that was what it would continue to be, forever guarding the treasures that lay behind its stone frame. What those treasures were, it had yet to figure out since no one had come to claim them. Well, there had been that small boy some years ago, but he had left without anything of note. Just a sword that was as grimy as the rest of the place was and had been for some time.

If the door could have frowned it would have. It really wished its master hadn't locked out the house elves. Those little creatures were wonderful – always left it feeling shiny and new and happy as a door could be. As it was, the door's emerald eyes were fogged up from dust and debris and what might have been some sort of rodent at one point or another. It generally preferred not to think about it.

But it digressed. The door was damnably curious, and naturally so, after a thousand years of hard work, as to the nature of the treasures it was guarding. The sword hardly counted; after all, what could a dirty old sword be worth? The only thing noteworthy about that incident was the big snake that was constantly stinking up the place and dirtying up the door's lovely polished stone had _finally_ bit it.

Thank Salazar. If the door heard that grumpy old thing grouch about its supper one more time it would… it would…

Well, it would do something, that was for sure. Nasty, too. As nasty as a door could be. It would… lock the blasted thing out; yes, that was it! It would lock the old handbag out of the chamber.

Rocks shifting interrupted the door from its musings.

A boy and a girl stumbled toward him through the rocks and rats littering the floor. Well, they might have been a boy and girl anyway. The door couldn't see very well through the rodents fogging up its eyes; they might as well have been monkeys and melons for all it knew.

Ah wait… a little closer… yep, it was a boy and a girl. Thank goodness.

Well, well. Visitors, and so soon after the last one! Only five years! The door waited eagerly. It hadn't had a conversation in such a long time; even if most of its conversations consisted of 'open' and it, well, opening, it was still better than listening to irritable snakes cackle about its eyeballs of doom or whatever basilisks liked to cackle about.

"My mother rusts pineapples."

…what?

The girl turned and muttered something in her incomprehensible tongue at the boy, who nodded and straightened, clearing his throat loudly.

"Peacocks on the prowl."

Dear sweet Salazar, have mercy on its hinges but the door was hearing things. Maybe it had finally cracked?! It hoped not; it certainly wouldn't be so sturdy anymore if that were the case. The door wished briefly that a house elf were around to check in on it. Blast Salazar anyway. Stupid old baboon never did know how to clean up after himself and now this poor old door was the one paying for it!

"Bean sprouts and noodles!" the boy said more urgently.

'_Uhh...'_ the door thought intelligently. Its master had instructed it to never let anyone in that didn't speak Parseltongue. But it was still confused as to whether or not the boy could actually speak it.

"With intent to creep!"

He wanted to be a creep?

The boy huffed in frustration while the girl creased her brows. "Pineapple smoothies!" he yelled, nose to… stone with the door.

How rude. And what was with the pineapples?

The boy tried again. "Police boxes in space!"

And again. "Ancient Egypt is in the wormhole!"

And again. "Gun-toting infants rule the world!" Seriously, the door didn't even know what some of those words _meant_.

And _again._ "Time-traveling phone cards!" The door hadn't been this entertained since Salazar had accidentally managed to spell the smelly old serpent drunk off its gourd. Those had been the most creative carols the door had ever heard.

"Aaaarrgggghh! Open the strawberry, dammit!"

Ooh, another fruit!

Oh, wait, did he say 'open?' Finally, something that made sense!

The door opened and the boy stomped inside, followed shortly by his companion.

Eventually the boy and girl left, one of them wrapping up what looked like a dirty old bone – a fang from the useless old grouch that had loitered in his master's precious treasure chamber for centuries. Lazy creature hardly even moved!

The door watched as the fuzzy images of the boy and girl faded away with that rotten old piece of junk before remembering something vitally important.

Those humans had taken worthless junk again and the door _still_ hadn't figured out what treasure it was guarding.


End file.
